Dear Everett
by Didi
Summary: Talking for a friend helps a lot of things. About Jubilee


**Dear ****Everett****…**

By Didi

**Disclaimer:**  No owning X-Men no matter how much I want to.  Let's face it, these disclaimers so unnecessary since no one in their right frame of mind would actually believe that someone that owned any of these characters would be sitting here writing a fan fiction.  And even if they were, would it be as badly as this? 

**Summary:**  Talking for a friend helps a lot of things.

**Author's Note:**  Another snip bit on Jubilee.   Not sure if this will be a one-shot or not but it's definitely got no connection to any other story.  Sorry if this one sucks like crazy but I kinda wanted to get it written so it'd stop haunting me. 

**Rating:**  PG-13 

            "You are so nosy!"

            "I know."

            "And apparently proud of it too."

            "Absolutely."

            Rolling her big powder blue eyes, Paige clutched her diary just a little closer to her chest and turned her back on her best friend.  "Is there any reason why you feel compelled to stick your nose into _my_ business?"

            Jubilee shrugged her narrow shoulders and grinned sugary sweetly at the blonde teen.  "Because your life is so much more interesting than mine, what with your affair with 'wonderful' Warren…"

            Shock made her eyes even bigger, "You little…"

            "I can't help it if you are so immodest as to leave your private, unlocked journal just sitting on the shelf.  Besides, I was bored and Hank keeps telling me to read something." 

            "Immodest?_  It was in my room!_"__

            "It's my room too," she reminded her.

            For a moment, it looked as if Paige was about to explode.  Then she did, with a noise that grated the ears and was incredibly high pitched.  Stomping off, she began a mantra of some sort that was undoubted a curse upon Jubilee's pretty little head.  If not for the fact that she loved the little firecracker so much, Paige was seriously considering breaking that scrawny neck of hers. 

            Chuckling because it was just too easy, Jubilee skipped happily out of the study room and into the one she currently shared with Paige.  Scott had mentioned emptying out one of the spare rooms on the floor for her, but one thing or another he has yet to get around to it.  In a way, she was glad for it, even with the lack of privacy both she and Paige have been bitching about.  She's gotten quite use to falling asleep to the steady rhythmic breathing of another, first Angelo and now Paige.  She wasn't sure if a silent room would be conductive to her own sleep pattern. 

            Closing the door with her heel, she paused a moment before turning to lock the door.  Paige may be upset but at least she'd have some warning.  Getting on her hands and knees, she pulled a cigar box out from under the bed, a remnant of her time with Angelo in L.A.  The fading tan and brown box still stank of tobacco and grease, a horrible but comfortingly familiar scent.  She touched the box lovingly with fond memories of the guy that tossed it at her head during one firry argument.  Angelo, I miss you. 

            Her fingers undid the black ribbon that held the box shut, the same ribbon she had worn in her hair during the funeral of the two men in her life she misses the most.  She wondered if it still stank of sympathy wreaths and freshly turned dirt.  No happy memories there to cushion the grief.  She had wanted to wear her uniform to the funerals, a bold reminder of why they had passed on before their time, but Paige and Jono had stood firmly against the idea and with good reason both times. 

            Lifting the lid, she brushed aside a dried pressed daisy, several charred movie stubs, a tiny hand-stitched cat and a useless handgun to pull the thin leather journal from within.  She touched the face of it lovingly.  It was plain, simple, not like most of her other flashy possessions, but it had been given with heart and she could never imagine parting with it. 

            Turning the cover, she read the facing page more from memory then actually reading the words scrawled boldly across the center.  "To Jubes.  This'll begin anew your collection of things that are precious.  Your Best Pal, Ev."  He hadn't gift wrapped it, or even presented it to her, it had simply been placed on her bed in the newly secured section of the academy following the torching of her room.  She hadn't even realized she could cry that hard over something as useless as a diary. 

            She didn't write in it religiously that way Paige does but she did jot down her thoughts when the mood suited her.  As it did today. 

            Sitting cross legged, she pulled out the fancy pen Scott had gotten her for her last birthday, probably because he didn't know what else to buy, and read from her last entry. 

            _"Dear Ev,_

_            "Wolvie came home today, bad mood and all.  Snapped at everyone, including Jean, and went into the woods outback after creating a mess in the garage. Guess whose car he tore apart again?  He's been hurt,_ badly_.  Nearly took my head off when I went looking for him later.  While he didn't decapitate me, one claw caught me on the shoulder.  I'm losing my touch.  But I think that did the trick.  It pulled him out of the funk pretty quick even if I did have to bleed like a slaughtered pig to do it.  I'll have to remember that trick next time, not that I'm planning a next time.  Scott went ape on Wolvie, and Wolvie took it like a man.  Three stitches but Hank doesn't think that it'll scar.  Doesn't hurt much now, Hank wanted to shoot me with something but I didn't think even germs can live on the hairy guy.  And no, don't start in on me about hanging out with the bad elements… I'm one of those bad elements, remember?  _

_            "Jean says that Wolvie killed, that you can feel the violence on him.  Me?  I think it's the other way around; I think someone cut Wolvie pretty deep.  Probably someone young, someone pretty, someone innocent.  That seems to be the way with him.  He only hurts for the good and then buries himself in the guilt.  I wonder why that is?  You'd think after all these years he'd have learned that you can't save everyone all the time.  And the good you do should count more than what you can't do.  But Wolvie is Wolvie, he'll do as he pleases._

_            "__Warren__ was a complete jackass today.  Paige is an absolute idiot.  And Jono seriously needs to be laid.  That little triangle is going to kill them… or send me to the loony bin.  Soap operas aren't this dramatic!  Seriously, those three have issues.  And I don't want to be around when those issues come to head.  The last thing I need now is to see Jono or Warren loss limbs.  _

_            "Bobby thinks it's hilarious.  But then again, Bobby thinks everything is hilarious these days.  It's weird.  He's more immature now than he was when I lived here.  It's like he stopped caring."_

            Jubilee frowned as she read the last sentence.  Her relationship with Bobby has not been as close as it had once been in the past but it was still on friendly enough terms that she wondered if she can live through trying to dig around whatever bug crawled up his ass.  Then again, she could be just projecting her own sense of things onto the poor guy. 

            Shaking her head with a sigh she turned to a fresh page and began a painfully slow scrawl. 

            "Dear Everett,

            "Bobby and Jean-Paul went at it in the Danger Room yesterday; and when I said went at it, I really mean it.  We're looking at about four days of repairs on the systems before it's operational again.  Scott had ordered training sessions and reevaluations for everyone.  Personally, I think he's just trying to make me and Paige take the evaluations without making us feel like newbies.  Anyways, Bobby and Jean-Paul sent first.  But instead of a stimulation test, Scott had them go mock combat.  Bad, _bad, **bad,bad******_idea." 

            She paused and underlined the entire section three more times with more force than necessary. 

            "To say that Scott, Jean and Emma are mad at them would be the understatement of the year.  And won't you know it, half the school turned out to watch.  I didn't think anyone could become literally a human bruise, but that's what both guys look like right now.  Two huge lumps of fleshy bruises.  I thought Hank was going to have a cow or two." 

            Putting her pen down for a moment, she reached under her bed and felt around for her camera.  Not one to miss a golden opportunity, she'll have to find a way to take some nice blackmail pictures later. 

            "I don't even know what set it off either.  They were both doing fine in the beginning, kind of needling each other a little but mostly it looked like a friendly scrimmage.  Then… it was like someone turned the switch on the fight and they were really trying to pound each other to the ground.  I thought for sure one of them was going to die.  No mercy…"

            She frowned and nibbled on the end of her pen for a moment.  There was definitely something going on there and while she generally doesn't interfere when it comes to relationship, look at how she's coolly stepping away from the whole Warren/Paige/Jono thing, she didn't like the way Bobby and Jean-Paul have become progressively hostile toward one another.  There's something going on there that needs to be sorted out before someone gets caught in the cross fire of things… namely her. 

            "I got yelled at again yesterday for being underfoot.  Scott is totally being an ape about me not wanting to return to the whole school thing.  He keeps telling me that I'm too young to be giving up on education.  I have no idea what he could possibly teach me in a classroom what I've already learned by doing.  Between the X-Men, Generation X and living in LA with Angelo, I'm not sure how calculus and history of China is going to be of any help.  Besides which, I'm not sure how well I can handle being under the reign of the White Queen once more.  'Auntie Em' and I aren't exactly seeing eye-to-eye these days." 

            Scratching out that last thought, she made a mental note to call up Monet in the near future.  Trying to track that girl down has become a mission on its own.  They haven't talked lately and she kind of missed the superiority of the Algerian princess.  It makes living with Paige's obsessive compulsiveness easier to bear. 

            "I'm not sure if Scott realizes this or not but he's about _this_ close to pushing me right out the door.  I know that he means well and all but…  this whole school thing just isn't for me anymore.  I can't do it.  And I don't think anyone around here actually realizes that… well, maybe Wolvie."

            The thought of that big guy put an instant smile on her face.

            "Wolvie's been keeping tabs on me lately.  I think Hank makes it a point to always keep him inform of my whereabouts and condition.  If he thinks I'm about go and die on him… again, he's got another thing coming.  Knocking on the grime reaper's door then running away once this lifetime is more than enough for me, thank you very much.  I'm not that daring.  And I don't think I've ever quite appreciated now much it must have really hurt him to be on that damn cross.  Sheesh, they're not kidding when they say that you couldn't possibly understand another until you've walked a mile in the other person's shoes." 

            She stopped and glanced at her hands.  For weeks, she felt the phantom stakes even though Warren's little gift had removed all evidence of her ordeal.  There were nights she'd awake from dreams, memories, of seeing Angelo on the crucifix, bleeding slowly, watching her with those sad defeated eyes.  For as long as she shall live, those eyes will haunt her.  It was the same message in them every time she remembered them: 'I'm sorry I failed you.  I love you.  Forgive me.' 

            God how she longed to reply to him, 'I'm okay.  You didn't do anything wrong.  I love you.  I miss you.  Come back.'

            Swallowing the unusual tightness in her throat, she rubbed her knuckles over her itchy eyes.  She wondered if anyone realizes just how much Angelo suffered for her. 

            Picking up her pen again,

            "I've gotten to know Jean-Paul a little, the guy Bobby's having problems with, and while he reminds me a lot of Monet, he's generally a good guy.  Great sense of fashion, really nice hair and he's got a honey of a car.  You'd like him a lot.  He's a little quiet and quite easy to annoy, I get a kick trying to get a rise out of him.

            "Other than that, I guess there isn't much new in my world.  I really wish you and Angelo was here; I miss you guys so much.  It'd be nice to have someone to talk to around here.  Paige is off on her own little adventure.  Jono is being… well, Jono.  Monet is making an adventure out of traveling with her dad and she's got Penance with her for company.  Wolvie is busy… a lot.  Bobby has issues.  And there's no one else around here that even knows I'm alive.

            "Anyways, don't want to be feeling sorry for myself.  I miss you two.  Look in on me sometimes.  "

            She closed the book with a sigh, recapping the pen carefully so not to allow the ink to dry.  Returning the book, she stopped to brush her hand once more lovingly over the worn leather binding.  Dropping the handgun and ticket stubs over it, she retied the box with the black ribbon before shoving it all back under the bed, between her forgotten fuzzy slippers and an unopened box of Twinkies.  With smile, she grabbed her camera.  "I'll talk to you later, Ev," then headed out to take some blackmail pictures.  She always felt infinitely better after talking to a friend. 

(shrug)  Maybe the end. 


End file.
